


A collection of short stories

by Pchan2017, The Laughing Revenant (Pchan2017)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A Nanny Among The Feral One Shot, F/M, Fontcest, King Papyrus (Undertale), New AU ideas, Short Stories, Snowglobe Sans, Soulmates, Zombie Reader, one shot(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pchan2017/pseuds/Pchan2017, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pchan2017/pseuds/The%20Laughing%20Revenant
Summary: Fighting writer's block on my other works, decided to do a collection of short stories.
Relationships: Reader/Sans
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	1. A New You

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the first of hopefully several short stories. Currently having a terrible case of writer’s block on my other works, so something that should end in a chapter or two, will be easier to work on. Enjoy!

It had started out as a simple virus, and quickly morphed into something far more deadly than the world leaders could have predicted. By the time the monsters made it above ground, the world Frisk had known was no more. It was replaced with a wasteland, a wasteland filled with the undead.

Of course they did what they could, rounding up the poor devils, containing them till either a cure was discovered or mass extermination was settled one. Thankfully, the royal scientist’s zeal for praise and acceptance from others, had driven the yellow lizard to take on the monumental task, and with the promise of great accolades, she dove head first into her work and came out the other side, not with an exact cure, but something which would suffice for the time being. Study would continue, but the first experiments had given enough hope, that even if humanity would never be the same, they had least had a future.

That had been ten years ago, and now, well life was back to a rather unusual sort of normality. Sure being reanimated, then given this half cure had changed a lot of things, namely your diet and appearance, but you were grateful for this second chance. You were a bit slower these days, still half rotting, you had to apply a great deal of the MTT branded makeup and ‘skin rejuvenator’ so not to lose any more hunks of flesh, and your hair had seen much better days, but your mind was mostly intact.

It was difficult to recall who you had been, before the virus, but reeducation and placement found a job and role for you in society. Yes you had to check in weekly for your screening, making sure you weren’t slipping up and craving living flesh, the monsters were lucky in that aspect, even the fleshier ones were only made up of magic after all, they held no appeal for a truly starving zombie.

Collar in place, its familiar hum now soothing, where at one time it had grated on your frayed nerves. It was just one of the many safety precautions in place to make sure what was left of humanity, didn’t turn into a mindless horde again. Really you were a lucky one, some of the undead did not regain any of their lost humanity, and were sent back to the laboratories for horrible experimentation.. You only had to submit to some skin grafts, ‘blood’ samples and so forth, every Friday afternoon, at three pm sharp. You really were one of the lucky ones.

You had enough good sense left to you, that you were even allowed to live on your own, and try to pick up your lost life as best you could. Something nagged at the back of your rotten mind, that fast food wasn’t what you were meant to do, but that old life was done with, with your poor motor control, as well as memory gaps, it was best just to push a broom or punch in the keys when an order was given. Monsters actually made the food and packaged it, you just hit keys and waved with that slack jaw grin of yours. Though you had lost a great deal, small bits came back with every new injection. Your memory gaps were becoming smaller and fewer in between, and you were even able to shamble without tripping over your own feet! A massive improvement. But your claim to fame, and source of deep pride, was the fact that you could remember certain customers, and you were quickly developing a few favorites.

One of which was a rather motherly goat monster, her name kept failing you, but the way she smiled and patted the top of your head always had you grinning and leaning into the touch. Such a kind monster. Another of your favorites, happened to be a very small monster, though he stood about your height if you could stand without slouching, he was still small compared to most of the monsters that came and went. 

Perhaps it was the fact he was a skeleton, after all, you could see a great deal of your own skeleton on your right side, your skin barely holding on to your forearm, leaving the bones of your wrist and hand exposed, not to mention how much skin you had lost from the right side of your face.. You didn’t like to think about that though, you still got haunting nightmares, flashes of memories maybe.. You were always afraid in your dreams, sickly.. Trying to hide, getting attacked..and then the pain.. Shaking your head, you dismissed the imagery, it would not help to dwell on what might have been the past, or just nightmares, you weren’t sure anymore. 

This skeleton, who introduced you as Sans, often left you confused, but chuckling a wheezy, breathless laugh. Most of his speech was a slur of puns that flew over your head, but by his grin and tone, it was easy to see that he would be waiting to see if the punchline had sunk in. You humored him once by laughing at a pun, and ever sense, you have found that laughing made you feel almost human again. He was indeed, one of your favorites.

He would usually order the same thing when he would pop in, which was nearly everyday, and the simple order was easy to key in, and he always used his card, which saved you some trouble on trying to make change or anything, he really was a kind monster. Most of them were, your boss.. Well he was a bit difficult, a loud and obnoxious robot who had taken the world by storm, though if you could waste the brain power to think on it, it wasn’t that hard for Mettaton to become a household name when his competitors were quickly decomposing zombies. 

Either way, you had a job, some customers you might call friends, and a hopeful future. You just knew that eventually, they would come up with a real cure, and you would be able to walk freely, not having to be monitored, live without the threat of either the virus reclaiming you, or failing an exam and going back to the labs.

You could make it, you could do it.. In fact, as your favorite customer walked through the sliding glass doors with a small chime to alert you, you smiled your best lopsided smile, and did something you hadn’t done in a long time. You spoke.  
“S..S..Sa..Sans..”


	2. The Snowglobe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying, you're crying!

Life was simple. His view of the outside world was distorted at best, but he had come to decipher what each magnified image might be, or at least, a few certain ones. It never helped when his little globe would be turned upside down and shook, causing the small plastic bits of ‘snow’ to swirl and fall about around him.. But he knew your face well enough.

He knew from the moment he had opened his sockets and taken in his new life, that you were something special. How you would run your fingers over the glass which made up his home. Even as the water tinted a faint blue from the paint on his jacket, you still loved the strange little skeleton, sitting on a log, in the middle of a winter forest scene.

Others might have replaced him for newer, clearer models, then again, he had been in your possession since you were just a tiny thing. Of course you had always been crazy large to him, but what did that matter in the long run? You were always so careful with him.

Your friends and playmates were not so kind and gentle, and one time his globe had nearly shattered when one of them dropped him on accident, thankfully the thick carpet of your room had saved him.. After that, he was moved high up on a shelf and watched your life go by as you aged before him.

He was finally brought down and sat on your desk after a few years. The small girl with pigtails and missing teeth had grown up into a lovely young woman, but he didn’t care, he loved you no matter how you changed. 

He just wished he could let you know, let you know whenever you sat at your desk, agonizing over your next project or paper due, that he was there for you, to help you.. Sadly he could not. He could only sit and watch.

Eventually, things changed as they always did. You were older now, your room no longer filled with toys, posters, or really much of anything. Most of your childhood possessions had been packed away. You had boxes lined up on your bed.. Donation, Storage, Keep. His soul nearly sank as his world shifted and was held aloft before you. Your smile though, it soothed his concerns, whatever you decided, he would be happy to just be a part of your plans.

Soon his globe was settled in one of the boxes, and for a few soul racing moments he had thought he might had been in the donation or storage box, but he spied a certain well loved plush that he knew had gone in your to keep box. He was going with you, wherever that might be.  
Life was a constant string of changes. College, a new house, marriage, kids, and finally retirement. Long passed were the days where you were too busy to sit and talk to him. No, these days, you often held him as you gazed out the window. Your hands wrinkled, aged now, but you were still beautiful to him. 

Your eyes had grayed, your hair was snowy white, and it was easy to see that your memory was failing you, some days you didn’t remember the people who came to visit you, but you always had him in your hands.

On the day you passed, a small piece of his soul shattered. His beloved human, who he had watched grow up before his sockets, lay still and cold as the nurses pulled the sheets up over your face, a face he would never see again.

His globe was placed in another box, set aside for your family to collect, and as he gave up all hope of seeing you again, something very strange happened. A hand, much like one of his own, reached into the box, plucking up his globe, and he found himself staring at an odd creature, a skeleton.. With splotches of ink splattered here and there. 

“Hey, come with me, I have someone you should meet.” His odd eye lights were confusing, but what else did he have to lose at this point in time? Sitting still with that same old grin in place, he would only sit and watch as the most curious thing, a puddle of black ooze, ink most likely, opened up on the floor, and the skeleton stepped into it, sinking away, leaving no trace of his arrival, leaving only an empty room and a box missing one small trinket.

Ink sat the globe on his kitchen table, and made short work of hurrying back to his work space. Emotions might have been something he troubled to understand without the use of his paints, but he knew a grave injustice when he saw it. A new AU had sprung up, a strange one indeed. It had only one monster, at least only one that he had been able to find, and that monster was trapped within a snowglobe of all things!

Hurrying back with a stack of papers, and various supplies, he dropped all of the items on the table, quickly sketching out the girl he had seen, as best as he could remember her. It wasn’t perfect, but it would be a fresh, new start. 

Of course he could only do so much, he would have to wait for a creator to dream up at least part of this concept, but he could guide and suggest as needed, and in time he was able to make his unspoken promise a reality for the little monster.

Sans had given up hope of course, even with this new world, he was still stuck where he was, and you were long gone. Your image, sketched out, then lined and given color, had only done so much to soothe the ache in his soul. So the day that he found a loud clinking against the glass of his globe, well he gave it up to the other skeleton finally losing his marbles and deciding to be done with him.  
He couldn’t have been further from the truth. As the glass gave way and shattered, the water flooded out, leaving him cold, scared, and waiting to dry, crack, and crumble, well something unexpected happened.

He found that he could.. He could blink? Testing this new ability, he soon discovered he could part his teeth, raise his hands, and soon enough stood from that old log. Stepping forward, he clambered onto the awaiting hand, his soul humming in his chest as hope swelled within him. This was not an end, but a new start. A new life.

His soul nearly burst when he caught sight of what Ink was carrying him towards. You were so beautiful.. Porcelain, perfection, so delicate as you stood, perched upon your tiptoes, the stiff pink tutu flared about you as your stand spun in slow rotation, a gentle tune to accompany your automated dance. 

“Go on, it is time little one.” Ink lowered his hand to the desk where the box sat, the box which held gears and springs, the box that you were slowly spinning upon. Hurrying out of Ink’s grasp, his wet slippers, feeling all too soft from where they had normally been sturdy and stiff, made tiny plop sounds as he scampered over to you. Climbing the box, his soul nearly gave out as the music came to an end, your motions ceased and for a moment, he had thought it all a cruel joke.. Till you opened your eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, had this idea floating around of an AU where Sans is in a snow globe, unable to move or speak. Hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Evelyn Evelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the song inspired me to write this, I am leaving its name in the title. This is just another short story to blow off some steam. Hope everyone is staying healthy and safe during this situation. <3  
> Oh also, yes this is a bit of my own spin on HorrorTale.
> 
> Warnings: Some mentions of gore, blood, and feasting.

The term monster had changed a great deal over the past few years. At one time, it was a derogatory term tossed around by humanity, calling each other monsters be it for horrible acts one had committed, or just out of anger at one another. Humanity had forgotten what an actual monster was.

True, they had their folklore, and with every myth there is at least a grain of truth, but the humans had cast aside all of the warnings left to them from days of old. These stories, well they were simply that, stories. Over time the stories were cleaned up, the horrific dark nature of the tales were turned on their ear, so to be soothing, something to read to one’s young come bedtime. 

But the truth was, humanity had destroyed the only weapons they possessed against the things which had once roamed the land, lurked in the night, and savored the sweet flesh humanity had to offer. 

Along with the stories, the few who could have stood before the terror to come, were sought out, hunted down, tortured, even burned for so called heresies. These mages, or witches, were accused of dark worship, when in truth, they were the final line of defense against a horror long ago predicted.

So to save what little line of magic now coursed through the blood of humanity, the surviving few, locked their knowledge away, and did what they could to survive. They walked among humanity, but felt no love for them. They became the horrors and terrors in stories as well, and they loathed every moment that their names were being dragged through the mire of lies and deception.

So when the barrier was finally shattered, the ravenous monsters making their way to the surface at last, and feasting till their gullets were finally satisfied, it was then that those who had been so cast aside, looked down upon, hunted.. It was those surviving few, who turned their backs on humanity, and fled to the very Underground which had once imprisoned.

There, they grew in numbers, slowly but surely. They would return to the surface now and again, finding like minded souls, or even taking young who showed potential.. And in most cases those children were orphaned before they were discovered by the clans.   
When the barrier had broken, it had also awoken the magic that had lain dormant for so long, and in time, it was evident in those who grew into this new era. Children were strong conductors of magic, and if trained properly, could continue to hone their skills as they grew. What revealed this fact? It was all in the eyes. As magic grew stronger, it began to show in various forms, but the easiest to spot, was the glowing eyes of a child born within these days. From birth, till somewhere within their teens, their eyes would glow with an unnatural hue.

The hues were reflections of the souls. As monsters realized what was taking place, they sought out many of these children to slaughter, but there was always something about the red eyed child, which drove even the most callous monster to fear and flee.

The clans of mages did not know why the monsters feared the red eyed children, but they would collect any they could find. These children were strong, their magical talents proved to be precise and deadly as they trained. There were others of course, those with the green glow, were great healers, while ones with orange were born leaders, with magic to stir and lead others, blessed with charm and charisma.

Blue were known to be judges of truth, their magic could cease lying lips, still the voice till only the truth could be spoken. Purple often were seen alongside the green eyed healers, melding magic on those too close to death for healing alone to save them. They also could lend their talents to the leaders, boosting their spells when they spoke to hunting parties. Together, their magic steeled the hearts of mages about to leave for the surface.

Finally there was yellow. The pale yellow eyes, as though one was looking into the cold eyes of a feline, could feel the weight of their sins, and when paired with the judges, they could twist a body into itself with but a word.

Of course, as they grew, if their talents were left to fade, so would the glow, till they appeared as normal as any human, but for those who were brought to live below ground, a place so rich with magic, they learned to harness their abilities, and how to dose the spark of magic in their eyes, to hide away in plain sight. They could walk unseen, but still they could not erase all evidence of their paths.

More than once, a party had been laid to ruin when encountering certain monsters, those with a keen sense of smell or hearing. So they adapted, learning new methods and spells to hide. Hidden step was one spell, as long as the caster could keep focus, they would leave no print nor sound as they passed. There was a weakness to this spell however, one must hold their breath while they kept the spell going, so it was used only in dire circumstances. 

Another spell to help was Masked scent, calling upon the wind, a strong breeze would scatter their scent, allowing the caster to flee or hide. This too had its drawbacks, it was a very draining spell. They learned not to rely simply on their magic, but to walk without sound where they could, and to move between shadows to survive.  
It was while on these hunts, a certain clan discovered a rather interesting sight. Drawn by the cry of children, babies from the sounds of it, they crept through the ruins of the old town which had lain at the foot of the mountain.

The cries were weak, but they were determined to find these souls before the monsters might uncover them. Among the hunting party was a youth, a soul within their nineteenth year, with a secret they kept close to their own soul. Frisk as they were called, held a deadly and dangerous secret.

They had been to the Underground before, back before the fall of the barrier. They had witnessed who and what were, and had left them to die, hoping that the horrible truth would rot away within the mountain.

They never spoke of their experiences, nor what they saw. Carrying the guilt of their time below ground, a time when monsters were not so ravenous but still dangerous, a time when the monsters could have easily been slaughtered.. Frisk carried the weight of their sins in silence, and in turn, gave their all to the mages.

Frisk, with the crimson red eyes, eyes far older than they should have been, eyes which had witnessed life and death time and time again, eyes who had faced down the judge and walked away.. Sometimes they were unable to do so, but in the end, what did it really matter?

They had failed in their first attempts to protect humanity, they would not fail again. Time and experience had hardened their heart, honed their skills, and set a deep crack of hatred through their soul. 

So with Frisk leading the party, they moved silently from one house to the next, some scattering to collect supplies and check for any surviving humanity.. Be it to give a wounded soul a swift end, or to offer a new start.

It was by the third house, Frisk held up their hand, signaling that they were to go alone, and for the party to hold back and wait. Of course no one would question their methods, a crying baby would be a beacon to any monster within the area. It was best to go at this alone, and give signal if the party needed to flee.

What might at one time, been a lovely home, was now a stark reminder of how far humanity had fallen. The little picket fence, as well as the weed filled flower bed had been trampled in the first wave. The white paint had grown dingy and dull, stained with long stripes where claws caked in gore had passed along the walls. 

The inside of the house fared no better than the outside, the door had been broken in two, half still hanging off one set of hinges while the other had splintered and seemingly exploded into what had to have been the living room.  
What wasn’t looted, was destroyed, little remained to tell the story of those who had once called this place home. The cries were growing faint, Frisk could waste not a moment more on mourning the past.

Taking the stairs which lead up along one wall, just off from the living room, Frisk took their steps, two at a time, trying to keep each footfall as silent as possible. The landing led off into two separate hallways. The first must have at one time been the parent’s bedroom with a bathroom across the hall, while the other three doors down the other way, had each at one time, been decorated with stickers and the sort.. More forgotten stories of lives stolen far too soon.

A sick crunching sound sent a shiver down their spine, they knew that sound all too well, that was not the sort of sound that came from a stick beneath one’s foot, nor did it come from any other source save for one.. Bones being cracked open.

A pit of dread welled up in their stomach, as did the bile. Something was here with them, but the cries had not ceased, so at least there was hope for the innocent souls. Peering around the corner of the last room, a nursery, Frisk felt the bitter taste of that bile on their tongue, as they took in the scene.

While the cries came from a filthy crib, the other sounds came from a terrifying sight, one that Frisk had wished never to see again. The monster was unnaturally tall, it’s spin protruding through the scraps of clothing it wore, with jagged spikes leading down to a tail which whipped behind them as it sat, long legs folded beneath it, while it feasted on what had to be the remains of one of the parents. The mother, if the dress which was torn and tattered, was anything to go by.

What troubled Frisk the most, was that indeed they knew this monster, but the fact that it rarely hunted alone.. Where was the other, where was the judge, where was Sans? Their blood ran cold as a shadow passed over them.. And something cold landed upon their shoulder.

“Got to hand it to you kid, you got a lot of guts showing your face here.” The cold presence on their shoulder was the severed hand, rotted and foul while another monster loomed over them.

“Sans..”

How long had it been since they had last said that name? Now, it was filled with dread. Giving only a moment to react, they shot their own hand out, towards a shattered window at the end of the hall, and cast a warning spell, the signal to run.. A bright flare of red that would fill the sky.

It was a warning, Frisk would not be returning from this hunt.

Thick bones crashed against their cheek, the simple slap from such a creature, was enough to send them sprawling into the room. Papyrus, the monster that had been feeding, turned beady little eye lights to the sudden sounds, and grinned.. Those long, jagged, horrible teeth, so strained with not only this feast, but so many before, were a mockery of the skeleton monster they once knew.

“F..Frisk? Is that you?” Where had the excitement, the joy and strength in his voice gone? Most likely wherever a large chunk of Sans’ skull had gone, as well as any mercy he had once possessed.

“Frisk, I am so happy to see you again. Well I would say I am happy but..” He rose one gore covered phalanges to tap against his teeth, which lost the mirth, the grin tipping down into a stern frown. “But I am not, no.. not really. Do you know what happened to us, when you left us behind? Do you Frisk? Do you know?”

Frisk was fairly certain they knew, from the way the monsters had changed, their hunger seeming endless.. They had starved, and it was thanks to Frisk alone, that any of this had turned out the way it had. Sans watched on, his judge’s eye flaring with tainted magic. He waited for his brother to give sentence to someone they had once called a friend.

“We were so hungry, Frisk.. So very hungry. When you took the souls, when you killed our king.. You stole everything from us.” As he stood, Frisk took in the truth of the situation, how time and starvation had turned their souls and twisted their bodies. Papyrus’ stature was hunched over now, taller then he had once been, so much that his spine couldn’t hold the weight well. His skull now just barely scraped against the ceiling as he crossed over to the crib.

“We could have been a family, Frisk.. But don’t worry, I can forgive you, I can forget you. I have a new family now.. Sans and I, we made the most fantastic discovery.” Frisk’s blood chilled as he reached into the crib, lifting the tiny bundle, and brought it closer for Frisk to see.

“At first, Sans said we should eat them, but don’t you see? Their eyes? We are going to take them back with us, raise them.. Oh Frisk, they are going to be so strong, so strong that they will be able to hunt down the rest of you. And then, my old friend.” The world friend was laced with so much venom.

“We can finally have this world for our own.” The small bundle, it did hold a terrible future for humanity.. For within the squirming wrappings, which Papyrus gently pulled back, to give Frisk a good view, the last thing they would see before their sentence was carried out, was the last hope for humanity turned to the monster’s final weapon. Two children, fused from shoulder to hip.. With eyes so bright, one set crimson, and the other cyan. Together, if trained, an unstoppable force.. Two souls, which surely had to be as one.

“We will be such a happy family.. Now, brother.. If you will.”

The cries were drowned out, as a loud crack rang out, and from below, if one were to look up from the first floor of the ruined home.. They might spy an axe embedded through the layers of the ceiling and floor over head, and a rapidly growing stain of red which would gradually drip down to the ground below.

“I think, we shall call them, Evelyn” Papyrus grinned as he held up his new pride and joy. “They are going to be so strong.. So very strong, don’t you agree, brother?” Sans merely grunted, ripping his axe free from the mess he had made of the former ‘angel’ , the former fallen child who could have prevented all of this mess.. Perhaps he would be lucky, and this Evelyn would be granted that same cursed power of reset.. What he wouldn’t give to have time turn back.. One last time.


	4. Less of a story and more of a clue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following story (if you can call it that..) is actually one huge spoiler for one of my current works, I am curious if anyone reading those stories, will happen across this one? We shall see.

Drip

Drip

Drip

The steady fall, one inky black droplet after another, splattering against smooth bone. The stone slab which lay beneath him, had long since become coated with the sticky, tar like sludge which soaked through not only his clothing, his bindings, but deep into his bones as well. 

Drip

Drip

Drip

Sockets, void of light, stared upward, to the rock surface overhead, and the steady drip, drip, drip. Elsewhere, someone was screaming his name.. Someone important, someone who he once called friend, but all he knew now, was the steady drops.

He faded in and out of nightmarish sleep, imagery painted along his vision, scenes of savage creatures, claws and fangs, blood and dust and always the drip, drip, drip. His sockets were filled to overflowing, when he blinked, dark tears traced down his now stained bones. 

He had long since given up trying to break the bonds that held him, and focused now on the drops, the steady pattern, precise and constant. The voice that cried out to him was fading again, sleep was clawing at his consciousness, and soon enough he relented, lulled off into his nightmares, with the steady drip, drip, drip.

The sea, thick as ink, engulfed him, dragging him down, deeper, further into the trenches as the light faded away. He clawed desperately, pleading even as his mouth was filled with the dark sludge, but as with every dream which came and went, no one ever heard his cries. 

He woke sometime later, the same old song, the drips echoing in the open cavern that he now called home. His mind was slow, sluggish as he turned his skull, a river of sludge poured from his sockets, spilling to the stone slab and down through various ruts and runes carved below.

Just for a moment, through the deep dark, he saw a spark of light, a small glimmer of hope. But what did he know of hope? What did he know of light? He knew only the drips, and the nightmares. The constant flow, the only certainty in his world. The drip, drip, drip.

A voice, raw, desperate, raspy , called out to him, he could all but make out a few sounds, but not enough to understand what was being said to him, always the drips echoed, drowning out the world around him,

“...nk...lp..one..up...nk...nk...nk!”

It made no sense to him. He turned his head once more, facing the steady fall, he was so tired, so damn tired. If only he could wake up, if only he could reach out, brush the sludge away, and remember.. But what was he trying to remember?

A friend? A promise? Another world? Another time?

There was only the cold, the steady drops, and the empty feeling that swelled within his rib cage. He was cold, so very cold, and so very alone. Maybe the voice would reach out to him again. Maybe he would be able to make out what they were trying to tell him.. Or maybe he was dreaming again.

Who knew? All he knew was the drips. The steady drips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who will connect the clues first.


	5. Continue: A New You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the first chapter. Thank you for reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing a couple of new characters in this chapter, a pair from an unfinished AU of my own, I hope to reveal more about them and their world soon.

Your surprise greeting was met with saucer wide white eye lights, the normal pinpricks of light now filling those deep, dark sockets. “W..what’d ya say there, kid?” Surely he had mistaken your usual grunts and groans for his own name, there was no possible way you had actually been able to put together four letters into a coherent word, much less recognize just who the name belonged to.

“S..S..Sans! Saanns! Sans!” Joy flooded your broken and poorly mended soul, you could speak! You wanted to say so much, but your tongue was as thick and heavy in your mouth as always. You could only manage to repeat the name, slurring often as you did so, but damn if it did not feel good to actually be able to speak!

Reaching out , you were half across the counter now, your hands clasped to his shoulders as thick, putrid tears filled your vision a milky white. You blinked away what you could, your right eye having long since been sealed shut so as not to scare off customers with it’s empty socket. “Sans!” You were near hysterical at this point, you could speak!

Sans was sweating bullets now, his gaze swept from you, to the cooks and other co-workers who were beginning to poke their heads from the kitchen area, curious as to why there was a growing commotion. This was not good in the slightest, well a little, but the timing was terrible. Already, people, well monsters, most of humanity who had not been turned, had refused to leave their little shelter city some miles away, but the monsters around him were fetching out their cell phones, if anyone caught you in such a state, and shared it publicly… He didn’t want to think about what might happen to you.

“Time to go!” His hands latched on to your arms, pulling you the rest of the way across the counter, your name tag snagging on the polished surface and clattering to the floor as he did so. Scooping you up in his arms, he had only a moment to meet the gaze of your manager before stepping backwards into the void. Shortcuts, don’t leave home without them!

It would only take a few seconds, but as always, time within the void was endless, already he had latched onto his lay line, the one he had set to return home, but he could feel the icy tendrils of the unseen clawing at his bones, his jacket, whispers of something he could not understand and did not wish to. The void was a terrible, horrible place to become lost in, one could not only lose their way, but their own sense of self and body.

Stepping out the other side, he sighed with relief, the cold fading away as he stood before his home, here on the surface, the warm sun overhead doing all it could to steal away the nothingness that still held phantom claws over his bones. You whimpered and had, throughout the experience, had tucked your head against his clavicle. Patting your back gently, he noted the bridge of your spine which had to be poking up through broken skin beneath your uniform.. Why did he always have to find strays and bring them home? Ah well, nothing to be done for it now.. Nothing, save try to figure out just why you had a sudden moment of clarity. Was it possible you were recovering? 

As he mulled over the thought, trying to piece together this confusing puzzle, the creak of his front door opening, alerted him to the fact that someone had noticed the ripple of magic which would always announce one of his shortcuts.

Tybalt, a rather short skeleton from yet another timeline, another stray he had accidentally pulled through, glared hatefully at him, those cold mint star eye lights trailing over the precious cargo he had brought back with him. “Bringing home broken toys now, Classic?”

Sans gave a snort of derision at that, of course Tybalt was in a mood, when was he not? “Stuff it, and while you're at it, fetch Stretch and Red for me, we have a problem.” Those starry eye lights rolled with annoyance, muttering what Sans was fairly certain was a few choice phrases thrown his directions as the skeleton ducked back inside, his shrill voice ripping through the house. Well, that would do the trick.

Carrying you up the four wooden steps that lead up to the porch of his house, the twinkling giftmas lights over his head did little to lighten his sour mood. You were surprisingly light, well then again, you had to be missing some vital bits and pieces which would have added to your mass, he wouldn’t put too much thought into that for now, what mattered was getting you inside and tucked away, safe within the lab and to get the tests started. Tests he needed to run and complete before anyone might come tearing his door down to find a stray zombie. Stars, he hated the fact he had to even call you that.

Just his luck, he gets to the surface, actually finds his soulmate, and they’re undead. Life was just one big cosmic joke, one right after the other. Shouldering past the prickly skeleton, another mistake on his part.. A Sans from an unfinished timeline, one of many he had accidentally pulled through.. Of course he was used to the usual lot appearing in his basement, time and time again the machine had sputtered, flared, and misfired, and always he had been able to send the wayward lot back home.. But this time, it didn’t take.

This time, he had accidentally pulled many of his friends through, as well as some new faces, and the machine refused to work with him. His skull still rang with the rant Edge had thrown his way that day. Ah well, as always, nothing to be done for it now. He just had to deal with one problem at a time, and the most important one, namely you, had moved up the list to be dealt with immediately. 

Tybalt kept a close watch over ‘Classic’ as he carted in a rotten bit of human filth, but his fragile soul nearly finally shattered within his chest as that small, undeniable little cry rose from your own as you passed him by.  
It couldn’t be. There was no damn way it was possible. Why in the Angel’s name did he have to see you, like this.. Here, now?! The delicate shell of his soul, nearly drained of its essence, throbbed painfully as he watched Sans disappear deeper into the house with you. In all his years, in all the resets and broken timelines, he had never thought to find you.. And here you were, being carted in by a more stable version of himself.. And you looked just as broken as his own soul was.

For the first time in many years, Tybalt found himself speechless as the basement door was thrown open , Sans hurried down the steps with you so safely nestled against his sternum, and something well known, something Tybalt was very familiar with, rose with a sharp spike in his soul. Jealousy. How dare he. How dare he know that you even existed, how dare Sans never even speak of you! Tybalt knew full well, as did most of the household, that Sans had made a ‘friend’ outside of his usual routine, a pathetic rotting human. Enough jeers had been tossed Sans’ way about the foul scent he always carried home when visiting one of those disgusting grease traps that employed such creatures, but how dare he hold onto such precious knowledge and not inform the rest, not inform him!

The door slammed shut behind him with such force that it threatened to splinter as his rage bubbled and boiled within his delicate soul. He had half a mind to.. A firm, cold hand settled upon his shoulder, the rage subsided, recoiled down, deep into his soul to fester. He knew the hand, the same one that had held him back so many times before. Cutting his gaze up to his own brother, Thistle, who stood now by his side, having stepped through his own shortcut at the threatening rising aura that always called out to him before Tybalt might go on a rampage. 

“Not the time, bro.” A simple reminder. It was not the time yet to let his anger, his rage come to the surface. His soul was not yet healed, not yet ready to house such a surge of magic.. And it wouldn’t be, not till he had a chance to be near you, his soulmate, the one soul within this wretched timeline that could do any good for him and perhaps, if they were lucky, for his brother as well. 

Gritting his teeth, he shrugged off Thistle’s hand and turned for the winding staircase. “I will be in my room!” He snapped back at the towering skeleton. Thistle merely hummed, giving a curt nod before turning his attention back to the now slightly ajar basement door. How curious. How very curious that Classic would bring such a time bomb home with him. This warranted investigation and tact, something his brother was not of sound mind to do or perform at that very moment.


	6. One shot from A Nanny Among The Feral: If Things Had Gone Differently.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a glimpse of what life had been life, had our dear Reader encountered the Horror Clan first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been driving me crazy, how many different ways my main story (for now) could have gone, so there maybe other one shots to pop up at some point in time. Also, I really need to get back to work on Feral and the other stories X_x..

The morning found you waking early, long before your boys or your clan had begun to stir. They would all be hungry when they awoke, so it was best to get started early. First things first, cleaning. Trudging to the nearby pond, you stripped down quickly to get this over and done with, you know how Honey is if you are away from the clan for too long.

Washing up, you shivered at the slight chill created by the combination of the formerly still waters, and early morning air, but that chill was not to last. A pair of firm, strong , boney arms wrapped about your middle, and an all too familiar trace of sharp tipped fangs lining a lithe and thin muzzle nuzzled in against the crook of your neck.

The rumbling purr was heavy with sleep as the lethargic skeleton eased his lanky frame down into the waters with you, his long legs draping over your own as he sat behind you, knee caps knocking your own scuffed and calloused knees. “You should still be asleep, you know we have a hunt today.” Your disapproving grumble was met with a grunt as sharp, taloned tipped phalanges dragged through your hair, tugging at knots till finally working them free. You grimaced at the well intended but rough treatment, sighing and leaning back against pokey ribs to let the skeleton do as he pleased. They were all funny about your hair, Honey loved to comb it thoroughly with his claws each morning and evening, Horror could spend hours nuzzling and sniffing your long tresses, Sugar fussed over any attempt to shorten the unruly mop, Berry was fond of weaving anything he thought pretty enough into your hair, and well Dagger and Fang had their moments as well. Dagger preferred to take hold of it whenever he thought you were misbehaving, though you had caught on quickly how to deal with the irritable skeleton, exposed ribs were good for tugging when he would manhandle you a bit too much, and Fang? Fang was a damn puppy for your hair, but you did have to keep him from chewing on it when he was either half asleep or distracted.. Honestly, skeletons and hair, you would never understand it.

Lost in thought, musing over your clan, your heart swelled with pride when they flitted through your thoughts, honestly what would you have done without them? The days had grown foggy, all clouded and lost bit by bit, but you knew full well, whatever had brought you to this island, well, it hadn’t been a good thing, but being discovered by your loving clan, that had.

They nursed your injuries, cared for you and your boys, and proved to be fine mates. Strong hunters, reliable and firm in what needed to be done. It only took a bit of work to change a few stubborn skulls on certain matters, but all in all, life had been kind to you since Sugar had discovered you on the beach. Your hand rose, cupping against your right temple as pain shot across your head and blurred your vision, a sharp hiss escaped between your teeth.

At once, Honey was still, holding you carefully, he knew your headaches were bad, and frequent. His soft murmurs being one of the few things you could depend upon when an attack struck. He was always there to bring you back from the dark, to help you find your way back to who you were.. You hated how you lost a little more of your memory with each attack, but at least the headaches were growing shorter and less debilitating over time.

When the moment finally passed, you were breathless, boneless as you leaned back against your blind companion, his worried murmurs bringing you back to the surface of your consciousness. “I.. I am ok, Honey..I am ok..” His huff spoke volumes, of course he knew you were far from ‘ok’ but at least your voice was back.

His arms moved to cup behind your shoulders and beneath your knees, and soon you were being lifted from the chilling waters, of course he would be insisting you lounge about in the nest with him, lazy boy would take any excuse to laze about, but then again, maybe you were just prone to wanting to get as much done as possible in your waking hours. Either way, you knew you wouldn’t be getting much done today.

Sometime later, your boys were off, learning important skills with Sugar and Fang, Horror and Dagger had taken up the role of hunting for the day, leaving Honey and Berry to fret over you. Berry grumbling, annoyed with the fact Honey was pretty much curled about you, caging your sleeping form to him, it honestly wasn’t fair! Sure, Honey may have the closest bond with you, but Berry would be damned if he didn’t have a bond as well! They all did after all.

Your sleep was fitful, and more than once Honey had stirred, hushing you with his murmurs till you settled, it was always like this after one of your attacks, and it weighed heavily on his soul. His precious little mate, so strong and yet so delicate. You had been such a spitfire when they brought you home, after you had recovered and gathered your strength back.

He smiled fondly, though he would never know the sight of your features, he knew you well. He knew your body by touch, by smell, by the hum of your very soul, it had been that hum that he had latched onto, and defended from the others, till they too heard it. A true and honest soulmate, something to protect, to cherish.  
And stars, your scent. Even now, as you slept, your scent was heavy in the air. It pulsed with your blood, danced with your breath, and enveloped his senses to a near frenzy, drowning out the constant hunger that clawed at his mind and soul.

His saving grace, you had become an anchor in his life, just as you had for the others, bringing them back from the savagery they had known for so long. You had been an reminder, that there was more than just the hunger, the hunt, sheer survival. You were a beacon to bring them back from the brink, a light in the dark.

Of course there was only so much that one could do, they had been trapped on this island for so long, just surviving, but now they had you, and Honey would be damned if they did not carve out a beautiful future with you by their side.

Berry tumbled into the nest, thoroughly done with being ignored, growling his irritation at Honey’s ‘greedy’ hold, nosing his way up against your sleeping side, right between the pair of you. Ah Berry, he could be a little spitfire as well, but his soul was far too sweet to let him stay angry for long.

Once settled, Honey rest his skull atop his siblings and mused at just how damn lucky he was in all of this. His long limbs making an easy task of pulling the both of you and Berry up close, tucked safely away in the nest, right where you should be, safe and protected. Berry grumped a bit more at the act, but was happy enough to snuggle into his favorite spot, curled up against you, his nasal cavity pressed between your shoulder blades, your sweet as honeysuckle scent soothing his irritation as it always did.

It took a few moments, but his fidgeting eased, though of course it did cause you to stir. Glancing back over your shoulder, you chuckled under your breath at the sight, not surprised in the slightest to find the smallest of the skeleton bunch to have wormed his way into the nest, ah well at least he was settled for now.

Perhaps it would just be a lazy day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yawns* Waking at 4 am and being unable to sleep? Well at least I was able to snag some writing time X_x!


	7. Teach Me How To Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King Papyrus happens to be one of my favorite Undertale tropes, and I have to admit, it is a bit of a guilty pleasure.

Time. Time is supposed to be one of the firm and constant things that one could depend upon, but for Sans, time was just another aspect of life that could lie to him. So many timelines, so many deaths that lay heavy upon his soul, but with every new restart, something changed, something in both the world around him, and something deep within his soul. Maybe his soul was cracked, maybe his code was wrong, maybe he had finally lost the last of his good senses, but whatever the case was, Sans knew one thing for certain, he knew how to fake a smile.

This latest timeline had, to be honest, been the longest running one he had known since this entire mess had begun and to make matters worse, the strain this timeline had left, was showing not only on Sans, but on his brother, Papyrus as well. With so many great heroes of the Underground gone, their dust scattered to the wind, there were large shoes to fill, massive gaping holes to fill so the remaining monsters could have some semblance of a normal life again.

The heaviest burden fell upon Papyrus’ shoulders, or rather, sat atop his skull. The crown. Sure, Sans might have had more of a tactical mind for the job, but Papyrus had the charm, the skills needed to pull the remnants of monster society up by their bootstraps. His winning smile, his confidant voice, and his persistence not to give up, this was what the people needed. In return, they showered Papyrus with praise, comfort, wealth, and far too much pressure.

Sans stayed by his side, loyal to a fault. The Underground needed Papyrus, and in turn, Papyrus needed Sans. At first it was just the same support they had always given each other. While Sans slaved away his days, making sure the core was stable, supplying power to the Underground, Papyrus poured over each and every document, request, and demand that flooded forth from his people.

Sans had first noticed the cracks in his brother’s smile when they had passed their third month within the castle. It had been a particularly difficult day, a recruitment drive to fill the ranks of the royal guards and sentry. The visit to Snowdin had left a bittersweet taste upon the king’s tongue, of course the people were happy to see him, they loved him, he was their hero.. But that icy cold land was a reminder of all he had to bury and leave behind him. That evening, he had summoned Sans to his room, and openly wept behind closed doors.

It was also the first night that Sans had relented, giving in to wandering hands, and allowed the pressure and stress his brother, his king carried, be cast off onto his own bones, more sins to add to so many, his soul could carry the burden, the shame. He could and would do anything to help his beloved brother after all.

It became a regular thing between them, so much so, that Sans found himself no longer named Royal Scientist and Judge, but carried a new mantle, one that made his proverbial skin crawl. Queen.

He had been opposed to the idea at first, but as with all things in life, he honestly did not wish to put up much of a fight when his brother protested, pushed, and prodded till finally he gave in. the ceremony was hastily put together, and though of course there were those who did not look too favorably upon such a union, they would not speak out against their king. After all, Papyrus was the only monster who had stepped up and taken the helm of command, and had done so with damn near perfection.

So, one little distasteful match could be overlooked, and of course Sans was making no royal orders of his own, all the power of course lay with Papyrus.. Sans, to some, was merely an advisor, a trusted ally , or perhaps just a comfort for the king, in the end it really didn’t matter as long as the kingdom ran smoothly. 

Truth be told, after months had passed and the shock of Papyrus’ decision had settled, Sans was only the remaining monster to have qualms with his new station in life, but those were qualms he kept silent. What good would it do, to tell Papyrus just how dirty he felt each and every morning? How his soul was repulsed by the simplest touch now? No, it would do no good, it would only make his brother’s life that much more difficult. It was best just to do what he was good at, grin and bear it, power through till sleep could claim his swirling thoughts.

One year, one solid, long year since the human fell and had destroyed so much, taken so many dear and precious lives. It was on that mark, the anniversary of that horrible day, that Papyrus proposed a new notion, a new idea to wash away the horrible past. A child, an heir to the throne, a hope for a bright, new future.

Sans’ soul felt as though it had passed right out of his body and deep into the earth below, the taste of bile rose in his throat and his bones itched at the prospect, but in the end, he agreed. What else could he do? He would give his life to see his brother happy, and if this is what Papyrus wanted.. Well, Sans would do his best to make sure it happened.

Looking out over the marked gravestones, memorial markers that were engraved with the names of the fallen, Sans rested his skull against the smoothed, polish surface, whispering pleas of forgiveness for failing them, the guilt so heavy upon his soul, so lost in his silent prayers, that he had not realized nor heard the approach of heavy boots.

The weight of both strong arms and the scarlet cloak their king wore, wrapped about Sans as he knelt, his tears falling freely as his reserve finally broke, this accursed timeline finally breaking through the reserves of strength he had feigned for so long and as he wept, Papyrus’ voice was soft, hushed, ensuring his beloved queen that the future was bright.. That he could finally say goodbye to these haunting memories.


	8. I cut you a piece of me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was listening to a playlist of songs from 3fmm, and one I had not heard before , started up. I cut you a piece. Listening to it through, this idea struck and I had to type it out before I lost it. To those still waiting for updates on my other stories, I am working on them slowly, just have a bit of chaos slowing me down at the moment.

Life above ground was interesting to say the least. Things could have gone better, things could always have gone better though. The monsters finally broke free, the mad queen now long dead, they were lead by the Butcher of the Underground. Of course, monsters were always weak to intent, no matter how terribly hunger may have driven their actions. One attack made with the intent to kill, and the terror that had spewed forth from the mountain, was soon contained in facilities spread out across the country.

Humanity caught on swiftly, multiple monsters in one location were more likely to revolt against their captors, while monsters in small numbers would be happy enough just to be fed, though their hatred for their human counterparts held true. This could be said for all save for a certain pair of brothers. The Butcher and the Giant. Separated, they were unholy in their deviance and tactical genius to reunite, together they were at least complacent in their new roles in life.

It was mostly thanks to the Giant, or Papyrus as he preferred to be called, most caseworkers just referred to his number when they had to approach him. Life behind the bars, glass, and magical restraints was not so terrible, in his personal opinion. No one tried to harm them, hell no one touched them directly after a while, it was all so clinical. Tests, everyday tests, they had become so routine that he actually had begun looking forward to the tests, trying to guess beforehand, which one they might be conducting today. Magical influx? Bone marrow? Try to just exactly what his level might be? Oh there were so many tests, but he didn’t really mind, not as long as he had his brother, and they had food.

The Butcher on the other hand, was pissed, every touch of a tool or needle, every question that tried to weasel out more information from him, every look of disdain, pity, or just the way they could glance over him as though he were an object rather than a living creature, it all had him tugging at his empty socket till they restrained him.

The suppressants they kept feeding him were blocking his abilities to read souls, as well as to form any sort of attack, but they did little to whittle down the sharp bite of his wit. He needed but to wait. The day arrived that he could play out his plan, with enough magical reserve stored up, he was able to summon a tiny sliver of a bone attack, and with it he worried and worked the lock binding his wrists, from there it was a simple matter of the shackles about his feet and any interns between him and the exit, what he did not plan on, was his brother’s refusal to escape when he made it back to the cell they shared. He pleaded with the crooked skeleton, Sans now a firm believer in the fact that all these tests could lead to their downfall, Papyrus on the other hand, stood firm on his stance. He was done running, done killing, he would follow the rules to the letter and not step a toe out of line. 

His soul nearly breaking, Sans turned his back on the only family he had ever known, and fled, vowing to return someday to set not only his brother free, but the rest of his kind as well. It took seven years, seven long years, but eventually he had been tracked down and returned to the facility. What his captors failed to realize was that in such a long span of time, he had plenty of opportunity to plot, and plot he did. Being captured was simply a means of getting back to where he belonged, at his brother’s side.

The punishment was severe, but he held firm, silent, the tests were grueling, but he did not utter a single word, only a few grunts here or there when pushed to his limits. All the while, his fists remained firmly closed, held behind him, bound with restraints that were honed to his magical signature.

He nearly lost consciousness when he was at last returned to the same old cell they had shared, and as Papyrus hoisted his brother up, embracing him for the first time in so many years, he caught Sans’ faint whisper, to check his right hand.

Clutched so firmly in that hand, was a small sliver of red swirling with blue, a sliver of his tainted soul. “I cut.. You a piece.. Of me..” He wheezed, his breath labored from all he had endured. The tears were fresh and new in Papyrus’ eyes as he held his brother as well as the small sliver. He knew what this meant, it was something they had discussed once, very long ago when they were both so young.

Gently setting his brother down along his cot, Papyrus made short work of the ties of his medical gown, allowing it to flop down against his femurs, as some poorly constructed apron. Summoning his soul, he brought that tiny spot of light to his own soul, and felt the surge, the rush as magic mingled, boosting his own reserves, shifting his own magical signature so the restraints would fail.

With his brother in his arms once more, his mind made up, it was time to put an end to all this waiting. Sans had gone through so much to give him this key to their escape, it was time he made good on his brother’s hard work.


	9. Big Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans goes messing around with things he shouldn't, and sends up somewhere he never should have. This chapter will have a follow up chapter soon, and yes this will be the series of short chapters that carry the fontcest tag and E rating. Whenever I get around to them that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, I have so many projects I need to work on, but this idea has been teasing my brain so I wanted to get it typed out and move on to the next thing I need to work on.

Sans could honestly say he had a lot of things going for him. Life above ground had been pretty kind to him and his brother, the kid had apparently lost the ability to reset, ending a nightmarish cycle, and they had come to a truce, putting the past behind them, though of course he never really let his guard down around the kid. His brother had gone on to culinary school since there was no longer any royal guard to worry about, and actually became a pretty decent chef, though his real skill resided with pastries and baked goods. Papyrus was overjoyed when he came barreling through the front door with news for his brother, he had actually landed a job with a rather exclusive resort, owned and operated by none other than Mettaton of course, and Sans could finally stop taking on so many odd jobs to keep a roof over their skulls.

Yes, life had been pretty sweet for the brothers, so why was Sans so damn bored now? Sure he had time to return to his own studies, branching out into astronomy, and back again to quantum physics, giving him more than enough of an excuse to dig out their father’s old journals as well as some of the machinery he had left behind. Sans was certain, if he could just decode some of the messy writing, rework and correct his father’s mistakes, he might just be able to find where the old monster had ended up, or at least have an answer for what exactly happened to him.

But none of this really excited him, well beyond the possible promise of reuniting with his father of course, but that was a goal so far set in the future with no true promise that it could actually come to fruition, that his apathy soon began to creep in again. What was the point of it all? Make some discoveries, leave behind notes and junk for the next generation to try and piece together? Wouldn’t he just be better off napping away his days, letting the numbness settle back in?

Of course he knew what that was, that nagging whisper at the corners of his mind. He had dealt with his depression and nihilism long enough to know the signs of a downward spiral, and so he decided to try and burn through it with manual labor. He was up to his elbows in grease and dust as he set to work, trying to figure out just what this hunk of junk his father had left behind, actually was.

When the machine finally whirled to life, Sans found a small spark of excitement bloom. He eagerly scanned the printouts that poured from the machine, checked the monitors, and absorbed as much of the raw data as he could, and what he discovered he now had in his possession was mind blowing. Cross dimensional travel. He had often speculated that not only were there alternate universes to his own, maybe even parallel ones, but perhaps they were not so far apart as one may suspect. It took a bit of work, though thankfully his experience with the void, his little shortcuts, had given him an edge in the field. He had a grasp, a feel for what to look for, and within few weeks, he was zeroing on on a set of coordinates that were not only lining up to possibly open a gateway to another universe, but remain a stable connection!

It was far too early to really share any of his discoveries with anyone, though Papyrus did pick up on how chipper and bright eyelighted his brother had become. It warmed his soul to see Sans actually interested in something again, even if most of it would fly right over his skull.

“I’M OFF TO WORK SANS, PLEASE REMEMBER TO TAKE A LUNCH BREAK TODAY, I LEFT FOOD FOR YOU IN THE FRIDGE..OH AND SANS.” Something tugged at Papyrus this morning as he stood at the first step leading down into the basement. Something was nagging him, worrying him, but he couldn’t place a phalange on what it was. “I LOVE YOU BROTHER, PLEASE STAY SAFE.”

Sans bid his brother farewell, promising that he wouldn’t get so absorbed in his work and forget a meal again, honestly, Papyrus really did worry too much, what was the worst that could happen? He actually found himself amused at the thought, really , he knew what he was doing and it wasn’t like he was toying with forces outside his own control or true understanding, but then again, yes he actually was, and for once in his life, Sans was not taking the time to think through his actions or choices, he was not listening to the Judge’s warnings, and was flying on blind excitement for a new discovery.

It could have been one of a million different little things that ended up leading the skeleton to disaster as well as what could have led him away from it. He could have slept in, watched bad daytime tv, actually have taken that lunch break he promised Papyrus he could take, he could have stepped out for a moment to appreciate the day and the world around him. 

Perhaps he could have taken a moment to wipe the sweat and grime that was seeping into his sockets, could have doubled checked his work, really there were so many things he could or could not have done which would have made the day’s outcome follow a different path, but in the end, well it would all come crashing down in a wild spark of electricity, a surge of wild magic, and plumes of smoke that had the skeleton choking on his own breath as he stepped back from the machine and found his feet crunching on icy snow.  
Working his knuckles against his sockets, blinking away the sting and tears that welled up from the near blinding explosion before a cold reality began to settle in. Snow? Worry raced up his spine with needling little fingers, there shouldn’t be snow in the house, and if he had somehow actually caused enough damage to expose the basement to elements, well it was well into summer outside his home, so snow could only mean one thing.

Eyelights cleared, he took in a frosty breath, he was back Underground, but something was off. A pit of dread settled in his non-existent stomach. No no no, he couldn’t be Underground again! He had to have made a mistake somewhere, yeah that was it, maybe the machine had actually worked? Well if it had, then it was not a matter of where he was, but when? 

Pulling his parka closer to his frame, zipping it up, he shivered. Yeah the Underground had been cold, but this was a new level of chill. It was an unforgiving bitter winter wind that tore through the wooded area he found himself in, and there was the taste of something on the breeze, something he had nearly forgotten and prayed he would never know again. Dust. 

Dust was heavy and thick in the air, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t clear his mouth of the taste, it tainted the snow around him, turning crystal white to a dingy grey. The cold was not only settling in his bones, but was wrapping about his soul now, he had to find somewhere safe, preferably warm, and gather his wits, try to figure out just what was going on and where he had ended up. Was this a bad timeline? Had the kid already started their murderous spree?

If that was the case, he would need to make it to the Judgement Hall, but then again, if he was actually in a new timeline, then where was this world’s Judge? Trudging through the woods, his slippers becoming sodden with grey mud, his thoughts whirling with the wind. Maybe he could find someone here, someone who had survived the kid’s reign of terror, and maybe they could help him find his way home?

Had he been more alert to his surroundings and not so absorbed, maybe he would have caught a few warning signs. Footprints in the snow that dwarfed his own, the delicate clues to traps and puzzles that near mirrored his brother’s but with more deadly intent laced into them. It wasn’t until a rather large shadow fell over the skeleton, that he would begin to find some answers to is many questions.

He had most certainly ended up in a bad timeline, but it wasn’t due to the kid, at least not yet. Sans found himself taking a few steps back, his soul plummeting as icy tendrils of fear found their way in. He had nearly barreled into another monster, thankfully he hadn’t, but the mere sight of this creature was enough to have him questioning every decision he had made up until now. 

This figure was not only tall, but malice was laced in every stitch, every breath. Cruel intent radiated off this slender, menacing figure. As he stepped back, his eye lights nearly dilating to take in the entire image, he found himself questioning just where the hell he had ended up. This monster towered over him, yes, but the true horror of the situation, this monster bore features so similar to his loving brother. Where Papyrus radiated love, kinship, joy, this monster was all spikes, pointed and sharpened teeth and claws, cold and calculating eye lights as red as any determined soul Sans had ever seen, bore down upon him.

“BROTHER..?” The question was less this Not Papyrus questioning Sans, but more of a question unto itself. His arms crossed over his broad chest as he continued to stare down at Sans, and the smaller skeleton knew all too well that he was being judged, and from the looks of things, he was found wanting.

“NO.. YOU ARE NOT HIM.. SO JUST WHO ARE YOU ANYWAY?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to have to wrap this up here, but I am rather eager to have another chapter out soon.


End file.
